


(I was never meant to) fight on my own

by TooRational



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Character Study, Falling In Love, Families of Choice, Hope, Jesus (Walking Dead) Needs a Hug, Loneliness, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-25
Updated: 2018-02-25
Packaged: 2019-03-23 15:28:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13790634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TooRational/pseuds/TooRational
Summary: Paul had always been alone.





	(I was never meant to) fight on my own

**Author's Note:**

> Something Tom said in a recent interview made me think, so here is a character study on Jesus. Because he makes me feel things, always and forever. <3
> 
> Title from the song "On My Own" by Ashes Remain.

Paul had always been alone.

For as long as he can remember, which is around the time he'd arrived at his first group home at the age of six. Sure, he was surrounded by kids and classmates for the next decade, and the occasional adults in the form of teachers and authority figures. And tv characters.

Still, 'on his own in a crowd' is a pretty spot-on description of his childhood.

He doesn't know what he'd been doing wrong even now, but isn't too concerned about it, either. Books are his best friends, taking him into innumerable magical worlds and educating him on everything from the inner workings of the human body to space travel, atom to universe and everything in-between.

People still flock to him, though, kids and adults alike. It's just that the interest never lasts long, or if it does, Paul is the one that finds it tiresome and slightly invasive. He distances himself, needs space and time away from everyone to get his energy levels back up again, and in the meantime the connection fizzles out. The other person moves on, leaving Paul mildly confused and upset, but also a tiny bit relieved.

Friendships are hard. They demand time and effort, and often drain him because he inevitably finds himself in the role of an advisor, sympathetic ear, and 'emotional waste basket'. And it isn't even anyone's fault, Paul is genuinely interested in people's lives and thought processes, wants to help in any way he can. He's a born people-watcher, a self-proclaimed explorer of the human condition and whatever else that catches his eye.

It's just that there are so many things to see and learn and explore, individual people kind of fall into the background.

~*~

It starts to bother him when he grows out of his teens.

Is there something really wrong with him? Other people manage to form relationships and fall in love as natural as breathing. Is he defective in some way? Or just insufficient, inadequate, without that crucial inner ability everyone else seems to have?

Connections that take a long time and a lot of effort to cultivate somehow always manage to wither away and die on him. He'd either get moved to another group home, or later change jobs and cities, leaving behind the one or two people he cared for very much. Promises of keeping in touch are honest and heartfelt; and it's not even that hard these days, with various types of social media.

And it works for a time. But inevitably, with space and time, it all dissolves.

Like water through his fingers, impossible to hold on to.

~*~

It stays like that for years.

The isolation, the aloofness, the almost painful desire to fit in somewhere, find a home. To keep someone, _anyone_ , to himself. Not in a possessive kind of way, but in that 'having and _wanting_ someone beside him' kind of way.

He lies in bed next to a one night stand or the current boyfriend, awake and staring at the ceiling, wondering why he can't feel anything more than faint interest. If he is destined to yearn for something he doesn't even know _exists_ for all of eternity, flitting from friendship to relationship, never feeling content. The loneliness washes over him in waves, cyclical, year after year.

He always ends the relationship when he gets to that point. It's not fair to either of them to stay together when there's no possible future.

He moves on.

~*~

He does it again, and again.

Nothing ever works.

No matter how many people are around him, he is alone.

~*~

The apocalypse almost comes as a relief. Almost.

He's well-equipped for it, with training that gives him an edge and all the knowledge from various books he'd read. Who knew his endless curiosity would be good for something?

He came to terms with his emotional unavailability in the meantime. He still wants to connect, badly, needs it more than ever, but he's also aware it will probably never happen.

Killing walkers is horrifying at first, but soon becomes common practice, an absolute necessity. He learns how to take care of himself, how to cover his blind spots, and never allows anyone to sneak up on him. After all, he spent his entire life so far looking out for himself, it's just that the environment is different than expected.

He never finds a group, survives on his own until he stumbles upon the Hilltop one day. It's as good a place as any, even if the 'leadership' leaves a lot to be desired.

And if he never quite feels like he belongs there, well.

It's not as if that's news for him.

~*~

The change starts with Maggie.

She talks to him about her problems and issues in the community, asks for his advice and input. But she also listens, and coaxes him out of his automatic derailments, and non-answers, and the instinct not to bother anyone with his problems. He repeatedly finds himself talking about things he didn't even think about in years, expressing opinions and thoughts he never bothered to before, sharing fears and tidbits about his life, skills, his insights into the human nature, and so forth.

It's exhausting sometimes, but so very needed. He feels lighter, happier, more connected to her, even in this entire mess.

He should've known it was the quiet before the storm.

~*~

The Hilltop hostage crisis stretches their relationship, pulls the strings between them so tight and far apart, they almost crack.

Paul knows Maggie, knows she's mourning Glenn's death and burning with rage at the senseless violence of it, knows that the 'kill them all' attitude is nothing but a reaction.

And yet, as he watches her consider Gregory's malicious and selfish words, the only thought in his mind is ' _please don't do this, don't let your grief push you into the wrong decision_ '.

And underneath that lingers another thought, a dread deep in his gut, so very selfish.

_'Please don't do this to me. I put my trust in you, as a person and a leader. Don't let me down.'_

She makes the right decision in the end.

The relief is overwhelming, even as Paul smooths out the feeling of almost-betrayal, makes it disappear. It's not that hard, going back to normal. Maggie was and is exceptional in every way, a good person and a good leader. For the first time, Paul feels like the community would survive without him, and it's a huge burden lifted off his shoulders.

If anything happens, he'll be leaving it in good hands.

~*~

Daryl is a surprise in so many ways.

From the minute they met, through the war and their conflicts, and then long into the rebuilding and establishing a halfway functional society.

He turns out to be the first person _ever_ who fills him up with energy instead of draining it, in a significant way. Not just a little like Maggie, or depending on the mood like a few others, but steadily and constantly. Talking to him, being near him, inevitably calms Paul down and makes him feel as if he's ready to face the world.

It's a weird feeling but he gets used to it.

And then gets hooked on it.

Daryl doesn't even notice until he starts to literally trip over Paul wherever he goes.

(There was an actual tripping accident, it's not just a figure of speech. They don't talk about it, it's way too embarrassing for the both of them - Daryl with his alert hunter reputation and Paul with his sneaky ninja skills, ending up in a tangle of limbs on the ground like they're teenagers and still have no control over their growing bodies.

Talk about never living it down if anyone found out.)

~*~

Contrary to what Paul might have presumed, Daryl is perceptive in _all_ parts of life. That includes noticing when someone has a crush on him, even if he doesn't understand why, or how, or _why_.

The ensuing conversation only happens because Daryl blows up about something completely unrelated and Paul snaps, unamused and hurt, pressing and pressing until Daryl spills everything in a surprising word-vomit that ends with a demand to stop messing with him. To fuck off and leave him be, because Daryl can't understand how anyone can see anything worthwhile in him. Not after the war, not after all the scars and damage he's carrying around.

Paul freezes, aware of the minefield he has to navigate but with no idea how to proceed. But as Daryl moves to storm away, desperation makes him find his words, and out comes a long ramble with reassurances and embarrassing confessions and a completely unnecessary amount of personal details that goes on for at least a couple of minutes.

By the end of it, Daryl's blinking in a daze, but also looking at Paul with something approaching softness in his eyes.

Paul's stomach flips.

It's a start.

~*~

The relationship isn't Paul's first, not by a long shot, but it's unique.

First in the dynamic, which is the least demanding one he'd ever experienced. Daryl doesn't make any claims on his time, or activities, doesn't have any expectations. He doesn't ask for anything at all. He seems content to hang out with Paul, sit next to him with shoulders brushing, silent or smoking or tinkering with this and that for hours. When restlessness hit they walk, hunt, go on runs, fix things.

And then there are the _feelings_.

It's borderline nauseating and incredibly embarrassing, feeling the butterflies in his stomach, smiling like a tool whenever Daryl so much as enters his thoughts, let alone when they meet in person. But there they are, at last. Constantly.

And the best part of it all?

He turns around, and there's Daryl.

Looking back at him.

~*~

The problem, however, is the fear.

As it happens, it's easy to keep the moral high ground when you have the distance and emotional neutrality to stay objective. To give out advice when the most you feel for any actors in play is fondness and a general bond you'd feel to any human being on the planet.

It's easy to stare at the barrels of two guns and be _sure_ these two raggedy-ass men won't kill him because who'd do that? Over a _truck_? That's preposterous. (He'd also counted on them not having any ammo in the first place but that was a severe oversight and a mistake he never repeated again.)

Suddenly, what were once easy and straightforward decisions became complicated.

What would you do if you had to choose between saving a bunch of people from Hilltop or Maggie?

The good of the many outweighs the good of one, of course. It's only logical.

And yet.

Would you let the person who fed Daryl dog food sandwiches live, or would you skin him slowly and throw him in front of a herd of walkers, which is what he deserves?

He's no one's jury nor executioner, abhors the mere thought of it. And still, his hands itch with the desire to hurt the people that hurt Daryl, ten times over, mercilessly, without a hint of regret.

See? Complicated.

~*~

He soon realizes he isn't just afraid, he's terrified.

He'd never felt so utterly incapacitated by fear ever in his entire damn life, not even when he saw walkers for the first time.

Terrified for Maggie and her baby, scared that something will happen to them and he won't be able to predict or control it. It's a shitty world after all, unfair and cruel, and no amount of protection helps if your number is up.

Terrified for Daryl, with his hunting trips and protective nature, his guarded eyes and gentle hands. Terrified he'll lose his person, the one he can always count on to be in his corner. The one who is always there when he looks, steady as the earth itself.

Terrified for himself. Of being alone again.

It's ironic, the fact that it took the end of the world to find his other half, hidden in the most unlikely of places and the most unexpected of people. That they probably would have never even looked at each other twice, for a variety of reasons, before the end.

Maggie comes to mind often, with her behavior during the war, and for the first time he understands _exactly_ how she felt. Glenn was her husband, the father of her child, and he was killed in front of her while she watched, helpless to do anything to prevent it.

If anyone touched Daryl, touched Maggie or her baby, he'll probably go insane.

It sounds dramatic and overblown, but it's true. There would be no place for logic or reason, no time for anyone to convince him to step aside and listen, try to be a better man, deescalate the situation.

He would _burn the fucking world down_ in his rage and grief.

The realization is visceral, strikes him as he watches Daryl go about his business at Hilltop on a perfectly ordinary day. Paul usually watches him if he can, half in fear of him disappearing and half just because he likes to do it, and thinks ' _I won't survive without you_ '.

It's disturbing because he's not that kind person. He'd never _been_ the kind of person, one that 'couldn't live without' someone, always found it codependent and stupid.

You don't _need_ someone, you _want_ them with you. That's the whole point. 'Needing' people is unhealthy and a shitty basis for a relationship, and a really good way to set yourself up to get seriously hurt. He'd seen it happen before.

Besides, people are survivors first and foremost. The only ones left now are the survivors, when you think about it. No one can afford to die of a broken heart.

And it's not even a physical sort of survival, because he'd probably continue to eat and breathe and _be_. But he'd lose a vital part of... of _something_ deep inside.

Daryl had seeped into him already, under his skin and into his very bone marrow, so much so that being without him is unimaginable.

Impossible, in a way. Paul will carry him inside himself wherever he goes for the rest of his life.

Nonetheless, the thought of not having Daryl around is enough to make Paul shiver. His imagination is way too strong not to be able to visualize the endless procession of grey, listless days. The cold bed, the empty trailer, the crossbow and the bike collecting dust somewhere.

The urge to throw up washes over him and he closes his eyes and breathes, ruthlessly pulling back his runaway thoughts and swallowing bile.

_Fuck._

Better not think about it anymore.

And y'know, thinking from a strictly practical point of view, it took him over 30 years to find Daryl, to connect and open up to someone to this extent. With his current rate of success, he'll get another crack at this at the ripe age of 65. If any of them live that long.

Just his luck.

~*~

He asks Daryl about it, how he deals with this fear of losing everyone. Because Paul can't breathe from the anxiety that plagues him at times, like he's wrapped up in barbed wire, and every move hurts and cuts and bleeds.

Daryl stares at him for a long time, and finally says there's no other choice. You just go on and live your life. No point in worrying about it either. Whatever's meant to happen will happen. Borrowing tomorrow's trouble only gives you a headache.

When he asks about choosing between his family and anyone else and only gets a blank stare, Paul realizes that that's never been a concern for Daryl. He'd always been the type of person to give his everything to his family, body and soul and spirit, until there's none left for himself. Screw everything else.

It's humbling and frightening at the same time. He knows he's one of the precious ones for Daryl now, feels it every time they touch. Tries to say it back in the tightness of his arms wrapping around Daryl every day.

He imagines a tiny 'protect at all costs' label stitched to his side and smiles.

Only Daryl.

~*~

It takes a long time before he comes to terms with it.

The bias, the loss of rationality, the inability to think clearly if _his_ people are in danger. He's always been practical, his mind a point of pride, his way of thinking also a way of life. This instinct to protect his tiny family first and foremost and fuck everyone else is... it just _is_. His head might be telling him one thing, but his heart burns with another.

He manages, though. For the first time ever, he listens to his heart.

Anything is possible as long as his family is with him.

He's not alone.

**Author's Note:**

> A couple of sentences in this fic (the 'finding a person that fits you and that being a very rare thing' part, near the end) were inspired by a series I've read years ago and just rediscovered (almost a year after posting this, dammit): [Merely Players](https://archiveofourown.org/series/8294) by [raitala](https://archiveofourown.org/users/raitala/pseuds/raitala). Apparently, the concept and the essence of those sentences has stayed with me for years, enough to influence my own writing over seven years later, and I must give credit and thanks where they are due. ♥
> 
> (The series is an absolutely incredible Arthur/Eames origins tale, btw, heartbreaking and fascinating and with the best kind of suffering: one that pays off in the end. If you're in any way interested in the Inception fandom, read it, it's definitely worth it!)


End file.
